Leftovers
by A-Bomb
Summary: Sequel to Cajun Turkey yeah, I know. I said I wouldn't but I did anyway : . Beast discovers another of Remy's hidden secrets.
1. Default Chapter Title

Disclaimer: Okay, for $1,000, who owns the X-men? Is it a) A-Bomb or b) Marvel? If you guessed b), you win!!!!! Well, in the metaphorical sense anyway, because I don't have $1,000. So I don't own the X-men, Marvel does, and you don't get $1,000, but I'm sure Marvel has plenty. What can I say, sometimes life sucks!  
Oh yeah, and the song lyric in the story is from Three Doors Down and is called Loser. Nope. Don't own them either. 

Thanks: To Rebop, who gave me the rocking idea from her story, Walking Wounded. And to all the others who have encouraged me to continue this. 

Notes: This is the sequel to 'Cajun Turkey'. I've had a couple of people ask before, and I want to say that my stories never are and never will be slash. Just one kind soul trying to help another tortured one. I love angst, and I love forming friendships between unsuspecting characters. Yeah, I know, weird. (0% Oh well, that's me for ya. Feedback is very, very, very welcome. Feel free to be critical, it helps me become a better writer. But please don't be mean. I cry easily. Enjoy! 

# Leftovers

Hank breathed a deep sigh of relief, happy to be back in his lab and ready to get back to work. It was nice to have a holiday every once in a while. But after a few days, the stress would really build up. He would turn over formulas and ideas in his head, dying to test them. But without the availability of his lab equipment, he simply had to sit on his ideas, and after a few days, he only had so much patience. His parents understood, of course. They loved seeing him and visiting, as he did with them. But his father was much the same. There were too many things to get done, and sitting around twiddling one's thumbs would get one nowhere. 

Hank smiled to himself. If only the others had seen what his father was like growing up. And they thought he was bad! He had a great deal of respect for the man. His father had always kept him involved in work and activities. Whether it was sports, Boy Scouts, or simply putting together a jigsaw puzzle. They never even bought a television until he was in his teens. And by that point, Hank had been more interested in taking it apart to see how it worked, rather than sitting around watching it. 

Hank brought himself back to the present. He had left them with the promise of calling and writing whenever possible. They had said their goodbyes and now everyone was back to their normal routines. He sighed, realizing how much he sometimes missed the hectic but stable routine he had growing up. 

He was just about to sit down and fire up the computer when the lab door whooshed open. Hank turned around and smiled as Professor Xavier entered in his hover-chair. 

"Hello Hank. I thought I heard you come in this morning. Did you have a nice visit with your parents?" 

"Actually, yes sir, it was quite pleasant. I haven't seen them in so long. The farm has changed quite a bit. But my dear mother's cooking is still as wonderful as ever." 

Xavier smiled and nodded. He had been given the pleasure of eating at Hank's house before. To this day, he had never tasted better blueberry cobbler. 

Hank cracked a smile. "I put a fresh cobbler in the fridge." 

Xavier looked up. "Was I projecting that?" he laughed and winked. 

"Just a bit." Hank laughed and then continued. "I noticed, however, that we are somewhat low on space in there. Where did all that food come from?" 

"Well," Xavier answered, "Remy got a bit carried away in the kitchen Thursday. But he figured that we could always use leftovers, if nothing else, to keep Scott from the kitchen." 

Hank shuddered. "Yes, even month-old turkey would be better than Scott's Chicken-burger Surprise casserole. I do not enjoy having to treat ten X-men for that kind of food-poisoning." Xavier grimaced and nodded in response. 

"So Remy stayed here for Thanksgiving?" 

Xavier looked up at Hank, putting on a serious face. This was actually why he had come down in the first place. He wanted to hear another side to what happened in Antarctica, before he said something to the entire group. He trusted Hank's opinion. Hank would not lie to him, even if it meant admitting he was in the wrong. Xavier cleared his throat to continue. 

"Yes Hank. I must admit I was a bit surprised to walk into the kitchen and find him in there cooking. For one thing, I did not think he had such culinary talents. You must try the Cajun Turkey before Logan gets back and eats it all." He took a deep breath and continued. 

"But I also found out some interesting facts about our Cajun friend." 

Xavier noticed Hank's interest level jump a few notches. Anything that one of them could find out about the elusive Gambit was a prize. Remy never opened to any of them, and he knew this frustrated Hank beyond words. Hank had the same suspicions that Xavier had always had. That Remy was more than meets the eye. 

"However, before I delve into this Hank, I would like to ask you a couple of questions." 

Hank nodded for him to continue. 

"You were one of the ones in Antarctica when that so-called trial occurred. Up until a few days ago, I did not really have a clue what happened down there. Out of everyone that attended, I feel that you might be able to give me the most straightforward and honest answer. What exactly happened down there?" 

As Xavier finished off the question, Hank's throat grew dry. He hated talking about this. He was so ashamed of what happened to Gambit. Personally, he felt the entire thing was a ridiculous waste of time. No one deserved to be treated like Gambit had been. Hank had been angry with Rogue for weeks. In a way, he still was. But now that Gambit was alive and back, he had pushed all that to the side to concentrate on his research. Now Xavier was asking him to unbury those feelings. Hank took a deep breath and sighed before looking up at Xavier to continue. 

"Well sir, I personally think the whole thing was ridiculous. I'm not angry at Gambit, if that is what you are wondering. I'm a bit hurt that he did not share something so important with us, but I do not feel he was as responsible as Rogue, Warren, and some of the others are making him out to be. I've had too many encounters with Mr. Sinister to know that he is a master at the manipulation of human desperation. I think Remy's reaction to the MedLab is enough evidence to that." 

Xavier's brow furrowed. "What do you mean Henry?" 

Hank continued. "You know as well as I do that every time I come near him with a piece of medical equipment, he flinches. And getting him to come in here is next to impossible unless he is completely knocked out. I simply deduced that his actions are probably the result of uncomfortable experiences in a laboratory in the past." 

Xavier nodded. He had not considered how Sinister might have gone about threatening Remy. 

"I simply believe that Remy was manipulated into working for Sinister. I do not know if he could have found another way around it. I haven't asked him. But Sinister knows how to break people. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if the entire thing was involuntary on Remy's part." 

Xavier studied Hank for a few moments. He trusted the man who was one of his oldest students. Hank never lied to him, and he was quite happy with the answer he received. 

"I'm glad you feel this way Henry. Because I would now like to ask for your help." 

Hank nodded, and so Xavier continued. 

"I have a conference of extreme importance that I must attend for the next three days. I'm not expecting the others back for at least a few more days. I know that you have a lot to do here in your lab, but I would really appreciate it if you could speak to Remy." 

Hank listened to what Xavier was asking and agreed, but he was also curious at this sudden display of concern. 

"Sir, is there a reason for this sudden concern? Remy has been on his own before. I doubt he needs a babysitter." 

Xavier shook his head slightly and cleared his throat. "I'm not asking you to take care of him. Just to talk to him. I---I'm worried that he is becoming severely depressed." 

Hank's eyes widened at this revelation. He had not really been paying attention to Gambit since he returned. All his time lately was devoted to the Med Lab, the one place in the house Gambit would not step foot in. 

"In fact, Hank, I would like you to get him on good anti-depressant. You can use that as an icebreaker. When I return from my trip, he's coming back to the mansion. This is getting ridiculous, and it's time this family started acting like one again." 

Hank nodded. He was actually quite concerned now. If Xavier was actually worried about Remy's mental state, that most likely meant there was something to be worried about. The man had three Ph.D.'s in psychology. Of course he knew what he was talking about. 

"O.K. sir, I'll see what I can do." 

Xavier nodded his approval. "Thank you, Hank. I would deeply appreciate it." 

With that, Xavier turned and left the Med Lab, leaving Hank to figure out how to handle this new dilemma.   


* * *

  
Hank stood outside the boathouse door, listening to the sounds coming from inside. Although not as sensitive as Wolverine's, Hank's senses were stronger than normal. Especially his hearing. And at the moment, he didn't like what he was listening to. 

  
**_This is getting old  
I can't break these chains that I hold  
My body's growing cold,  
There's nothin' left of this mind or my soul  
Addiction needs a pacifier,  
The buzz of this poison is taking me higher  
This will fall away, this will fall away.  
_**

You're getting closer,  
To pushing me off of life's little ledge  
Cause I'm a loser  
And sooner or later you know I'll be dead  
You're getting closer,   
You're holding the rope and I'm taking the fall  
Cause I'm a loser,  
I'm a Loser, yeah!   


_What a morbid song_, he thought to himself. But what alarmed him more was a faint, almost non-existent, heaving sound coming from inside. He immediately walked up to the door and knocked, hoping he wouldn't have to break it down if something was wrong. 

The sound stopped, and Hank had to wonder if he were not hearing things. After a few moments, Remy's voice rang out. 

"Jus' sec! Be right dere!" 

Hank listened to the sudden commotion inside. But before he could tell what was going on, the music came blasting out, some kind of punk rock turned to the max. His head was already starting to hurt, and he hadn't even spoken to Remy yet. 

Almost as suddenly as that happened, it stopped, and the door opened. Remy stood there, looking slightly out of breath and shaky. Hank noticed, as only an experienced doctor would, that the knuckles on his right hand were red and slightly cut. And for some reason, he had on sunglasses, even though it was cloudy and cold outside. Hank was so fast and experienced at this, however, that Remy didn't even notice he was being examined. Or if he did, he gave no sign of knowing. 

"ello Hank. What can Gambit do for ya?" 

Hank cleared his throat. He was not good at confrontations, especially by himself, and he didn't want to scare Gambit off. He laughed inwardly at how strange that sounded. But maybe scaring the Cajun was not as hard as they had previously thought. Gambit just seemed to cover his fear so well, no one knew the difference. 

"Hello Remy. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time. There are some issues I wish to discuss with you." _Issues?! Great one McCoy, that sounds like you want to discuss current events with him!_

"Ya wan' to talk 'bout current events or somet'ing?" 

Hank cringed inside. Was the boy a telepath now too? "No Remy, I'd like to talk about something more relevant to...you." 

Remy stood there for a moment staring at him. Hank was about to say something along the lines of he was freezing his butt off out here, when Remy nodded and stepped to the side for him to enter. Hank walked into the boathouse and looked around. It had been a while since he had been in here. Actually, it was right after Jean and Scott were married, and he, Bobby, and Warren were visiting and just talking about old times and such. Very little had changed in the living room. The furniture and décor were almost untouched. He had a feeling Scott and Jean probably wanted to get back in to their house. Jean had convinced Scott that it would be a good idea to let Remy have some space right now. Scott was a little more skeptical, but Jean had him twisted around her pinky finger, and so Scott gave in easily. 

"Ya wan' anyt'ing to eat or drink?" Remy's voice brought Hank out of his thoughts and back to the present. 

Hank cleared his throat. "Um, no. I'm fine. Thank-you though." 

Remy nodded his head and appeared to be looking at Hank. Those sunglasses were becoming quite unnerving. 

Hank continued. "Actually Remy, why don't we have a seat." 

Remy shrugged his shoulders and walked over to the couch, with Hank following behind him. As they sat, Hank noticed the strange body language Remy was displaying. He sat on the edge of the couch, arms folded around himself, looking as though he might bolt at any moment. Something was definitely not right here. He studied the Cajun a bit closer. He was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, but they looked unusually big for him. And he was hiding something behind those glasses. 

"Remy, will you please take off your sunglasses." 

Remy's head turned to look at him, and Hank could almost feel a sudden surge of fear come from him. 

"Non Hank," he whispered. "I...um, I have a slight eye infection and de light hurts." 

Hank narrowed his eyes. Remy was up to something. "Well let me take a look, maybe I can..." 

"Non!!!" Remy turned his face away. "It's mostly better. Jus' still a li'l sensitive to de light." 

Hank sighed and gave up on that for the moment. Arguing with Remy would get him nowhere. He sighed inwardly. This would be so much easier if the professor were here. But he was a doctor as well. He knew all the signs of depression and mental sicknesses. He and Xavier had spent hours upon hours discussing the chemical imbalances of the brain and the symptoms they caused. And the more he studied Remy, to his dismay, the more symptoms he was beginning to see. 

On an impulse, Hank reached out and grabbed Remy's right arm, pulling it up in front of his face to study closer. In those few seconds, Hank registered several things. The scratches on Remy's knuckles were teeth marks. And the arm he had grabbed had at least three layers of clothing on it, meaning it had to be skeletal thin. Most likely along with the rest of Remy's body. 

All of this was registered in Hank's mind within a matter of a few moments, as he knew Remy would only give him about that much time. Remy was too shocked to respond for about three seconds, then he wretched his hand from Hank's grasp and jumped back. 

"What d'ya t'ink y're doin'?" Alarm and fear suddenly filled Remy's face. At about the some moment, they both realized the glasses had fallen off, revealing dark puffy circles under Remy's eyes. This made the cheekbones even more defined and hollow. Remy blinked a couple of times, then turned away. 

Hank, actually, was not too surprised. It was just another symptom of the disorder eating at Remy. Hank was pretty sure he had a good idea about what was going on now, and he had yet to even speak to Remy. 

The younger man walked aimlessly over to the window, wrapping his arms around him, either for warmth or a sense of security. "Jus' leave me 'lone Hank." The next sentence was a whisper, but Hank picked it up clearly, "I know what I'm doin'." 

Hank watched Remy for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything. Remy simply stood motionless, staring out the window. Hank was going over and over in his head wondering how to handle this delicate situation. He realized that he would most likely get nowhere with the stubborn Cajun unless he took the direct approach. 

He stood up and took a few steps toward Remy, stopping several feet away from him. 

"Could you please tell me then, Remy, what it is you know you are doing?" 

Remy looked up at Hank, a startled expression on his face. He had not expected the question. But leave it took Hank to surprise you. Remy just turned back around, shaking his head. 

Hank gritted his teeth, frustrated. But why should this conversation be any different. Remy always liked to make things difficult. 

It was at that moment, Hank noticed Remy flinch. A realization hit him at about the same time, and he remembered part of a conversation he had had with Xavier earlier that day. Xavier had confided in him that Remy was quite possibly an extremely powerful empath. Hank had played with the idea in the past, seeing as how the Cajun could probably charm a rock if he really wanted to. But had Remy just reacted to that sudden jolt of frustration? This could be quite an interesting turn of events. He decided to test the water a little, and see how much he could get Remy comfortable with sharing. 

"Did you just feel that Remy?" Hank asked in his most gentle voice. He wanted to radiate as much kindness and confidence as possible, hoping that it might loosen Remy up a bit. 

Remy looked up, appearing shocked for a moment. Then calmness seemed to spread over his face. "What 're ya doin' Hank?" 

It seemed to be working. At least Remy looked a little less like he was about to jump out of his skin. Hank sighed inwardly, happy that he finally seemed to be getting somewhere. "Please Remy," Hank reached out and placed a gentle hand on Remy's shoulder, "Can we sit back down and talk?"

Remy looked back down, and Hank thought he saw tears pooling in the crimson and coal eyes. _He looks so miserable_, Hank thought. _How could we all have been ignoring him like this? He has been right here the whole time. And no one has even offered to talk to him. Xavier's right. We need to pull this family back together. This has become ridiculous._

Hank walked behind Remy back to the couch and they sat down. This time, however, Hank reached out and grasped both of Remy's shoulders, facing the younger man toward him. He held him gently but firmly, wanting to make sure he had all of Remy's attention. To his surprise, Remy didn't fight this. He figured Remy simply didn't have the strength anymore. 

"O.K. Remy. Now I want you to just listen to me for a few moments. Can you do that?" 

Remy nodded, too shocked to do anything else. 

"Good." Hank sighed, figuring he should start with the information he just found out. 

"I was speaking to Charles earlier, before he left. He was telling me that he figured you might be a very strong empath. Is that why you had the reactions you did a few moments ago?" 

Remy looked like a deer caught in headlights. He closed his eyes and dropped his head, as though he were trying to escape this questioning. But Hank wasn't going to lose that easily. He reached down and took the face in his hands. "Look at me Remy. Stop trying to hide." Remy opened his eyes again, and Hank noticed that the unshed tears he had seen earlier were now making their way down his face. 

"I---I'm sorry Hank. Oui, I guess its true." He looked down again. Hank dropped his hands and placed one on Remy's shoulder. 

"Why are you sorry Remy? I think that's wonderful." 

Remy just shook his head. "Jus' another secret dat everyone can hate me for." 

Hank felt his jaw clench. Remy was right. Every time Remy revealed something to them, most of the X-men shunned him. No wonder the poor kid hid so much from them. 

Hank raised a hand up and wiped some of the tears from Remy's cheeks. "I'm sorry for that Remy. That is a mistake on mine and everyone else's part. You should not have to feel that way." 

Remy just turned his head to the other direction. "Non Hank. I deserve it. You know dat. You know what I've done." Remy turned away, wrapping his arms around himself, and Hank noticed him slightly rock back and forth. Hank couldn't see Remy's face; it was completely turned away. But self-contained sobs were obviously shaking the thin body in front of him. Hank was sitting to the left, and again noticed Remy's right hand, which was wrapped around his body. He reached out and ran his gentle fingers over it tenderly. "Yes Remy, I do know what you have done." 

Whether it was because of the touch, the kindness emanating from Hank, or the realization that his secret was discovered, Remy's sobs were no longer contained, and pain and fear came pouring out with the tears. Hank had to pull back. The emotions were so powerful. They felt like battering rams trying to break into his mind. He silently thanked Xavier for spending so many hours with him showing him how to build shields strong enough to stand up to this type of force. He shuddered to think what it would feel like if he didn't have this type of defense. 

Hank opened his eyes as he felt the emotions retreat. He was dismayed, however, to see Remy huddled on the other end of the couch, practically in hysterics. 

"Remy...?" Hank moved a bit closer, but this made Remy even worse. 

"I'm sorry Hank!!! Please...I didn' mean to. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." 

Remy was crying so hard, he was about to hyperventilate. Hank decided to try what he did earlier, and sent as many calm and concerned thoughts toward Remy as he could. This seemed to be helping a little, so he decided to try words again. 

"Remy please calm down. I'm not angry or upset. Just take some deep breaths for me." He was relieved when Remy finally started to respond to him and calm down. After a few minutes, Remy was a bit more composed, although he was shaking terribly. Hank realized what a delicate situation he was now in, and knew he needed to handle it accordingly. He stood up and then knelt down in front of Remy, determined to get his undivided attention. 

Hank took a deep breath. "Remy, like I just said, I'm not angry or upset. I came here tonight because I want to help you. Charles is worried about you, but I don't think he really knew the extent to which your depression has reached." Hank reached out and grasped Remy's shoulders. "How long have you been bulimic?" 

Hank felt the fear rise again in Remy, but instead of retreating, He took Remy's right hand, and rubbed the cut knuckles. The tears were falling down Remy's face again, but Hank was not going to let Remy push him away with another emotional blast. 

Remy continued to cry, and Hank let him. He knew Remy needed to let this go. It wasn't good for him to hold all this in. They had taken a big step tonight, and he knew it would take a large emotional toll on Remy. As the cries turned to sobs, Hank sat back up on the couch and pulled Remy to him, enveloping him in his huge, furry arms. Remy went limp as the sobs continued to flow from him. 

Hank didn't say a word. He was going to let Remy be the one to decide when he no longer needed to cry. Hank decided that he was going to be here for Remy as long as the young mutant needed him. He began rubbing Remy's back in small circles, biting back his anger and concern as he felt the protruding backbone under the shirts. _How could we have let this happen, right in front of us?_

Hank suddenly felt Remy moving slightly back and forth against him. He was slightly shocked to realize the young Cajun wanted to be rocked. Hank again fought down his sickness at the fact that Remy was subconsciously reacting like a child desperately craving contact. Was he this desperate and starved for affection? Hank began moving back and forth, surprised at how fast Remy was reacting to the simple motion. He was almost asleep after a minute or so. Hank continued this until he felt Remy's breathing even out, signaling he was asleep. 

Hank sighed and looked around. This was not how he had planned things to work out. For one, he really wanted to get Remy hooked up to some fluids and nutrients. He needed to gain some weight, and fast. But he couldn't bring himself to wake Remy up and force him into the cold and down to the Med Lab. And there was no way he was going to leave Remy here alone. Not after everything he just discovered. 

He decided that he would take Remy upstairs to the bedroom. He remembered Jean had placed a recliner in there as well, and he figured he could handle one night of discomfort. He stood up with Remy in his arms. It shocked him how light the Cajun was. He had to fight back the tears that sprang to his eyes as he looked down at the figure huddled against his chest. The pained and hollow expression on the sleeping face was devastating to Hank. How could they have laid so much blame and anger on someone so young and tortured? 

As he made his way upstairs, Hank mentally drew a timeline of what he knew about Remy's life. The thief had lived on the streets until he was about 10, and then picked the pocket of the man who was to become his adoptive father, the King of the New Orleans's Thieves Guild. He was sure they had taught Remy many valuable skills in that short time, but they didn't teach him the best morals either. And then they banished him when he was 18, for defending himself in a dual to the death, which Remy had won. Hank estimated from past tests and such that Remy was about 21 years old now. Most of the mistakes he had made in the past occurred between the years of 16 to 18. He had joined up with the X-men when he was 19. So that meant that he had been exposed to about two years of possible redemption and hope for a better future. A future where he might be able to focus on growing and not just surviving. And they had quite possible squashed that hope in Antarctica. 

Hank bit his lower lip, trying to control his frustration. He really wanted to smash a tree down or something. No one else except Charles knew that he had a tendency to lose control emotionally. It was very similar to the animal rage that could disrupt from Wolverine. But Hank had a complete handle on it. He knew the signs of when it might rear its ugly head, and could fight it back. They only reason Xavier knew about it was that at one point, right after he had mutated to his current blue form, he was practicing in the Danger Room. Xavier was in the control booth, and Hank had been knocked from behind by a robot. He had so much stress piling up on him, and he just lost it, destroying about 10 robots one after the other. Xavier immediately shut down the room, shocked at how Hank had reacted. They talked for hours that night, and Hank had finally admitted that he was so angry, mainly with himself, for what he had become. After Xavier went to bed, Hank had gone back to the control room and watched that scene over, and over, and over. By the end, he resolved that it would never happen again. Every time he felt that rage rise, he played the tape over again in his mind. He would never forgive himself if he lost control like that with an actual human being. 

While he was going over all this in his mind, Hank had placed Remy in the bed and made sure he had plenty of blankets on him. He found some more blankets in the linen closet outside the room, and sat back on the large LazyBoy. Actually, It wasn't that bad. After rearranging his large frame a couple of times, he found a comfortable spot and closed his eyes. He needed some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. 

* * *

Well? Does it suck totally? I'm a mushy writer, I know. But everytime I start writing a story, this is what happens. Hope it's not too bad. But let me know either way. Thanks!


	2. Default Chapter Title

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone. Everyone is free, even mutants. Why they keep selling themselves to Marvel, I'll never know. But I do know that I don't own them, nor do I make any money off them. This is a free enterprise system people!

**Notes:** I KNOW! I KNOW! This took a lot longer to put up than I said. Sorry to everyone who has patiently and loyally waited for the next part. This is of course the second chapter of Leftovers, which is the sequal to Cajun Turkey, which wasn't supposed to even have a sequal when I posted it, but that's just the way things work out for me. So anyways, I've just been real busy with the end of school, work (Christmas was a killer this year) and getting registered for next semesters classes. I know, excuses, excuses. Well, real-life sucks, but it has to be handled first.

**Thanks to:** Samantha and Peggy, my two fantastic friends and beta-readers. And to all you guys who have stayed on me about getting the next chapter out.

**Feedback:** You guys were so wonderful with the last chapter. I felt so loved. *wipes tear from eye* Please keep it coming. I love to hear ideas and suggestions as well.

**ENJOY!**

  


Leftovers - _Chapter 2_

  
It was 4:30 a.m. when Remy woke up. This was a habit now. He figured Scott would be thrilled if he knew. Before, it was unheard of Remy making it out of bed before 10. But now, it just hurt too much to stay in bed that long. His body literally ached every morning. He needed to get a softer mattress or something. He actually had bruises on his hips.

Remy groaned slightly as he moved himself off the side of the bed, waiting for the black spots to stop flying across his vision. Actually, the morning was his reward. It was the only way he could think of to actually get himself out of bed anymore. He knew that when he would wake up, he could go down and eat an apple. It was the only thing he was allowed to keep down. He would cut it into one-inch pieces, and chew each piece several times before swallowing. He could stretch it out to 30 minutes before he finished the whole thing. He was already salivating.

Remy quickly grabbed his robe, shivering from the morning cold. As he opened his closet, a loud noise, almost like a growl, erupted from the other side of the room. He whipped around, crouching in a defensive stance. He half expected it to be Sabertooth with that growl. Instead, he saw the last thing he ever expected to see. Hank, curled up in the large recliner in what looked like a very uncomfortable position, snoring.

Suddenly, the events of last night came crashing back down on him. He had thought it was a dream, but apparently it wasn't. He started shaking again, but for an entirely different reason. He had to grab the doorframe to keep from losing his balance. 

Hank knew his secret! 

Remy quietly crept out of the room and down the stairs. What was he going to do? Why did he have to be so stupid!! His hand whipped out and punched the kitchen counter. He was such an idiot!! Tears reached his eyes but he blinked them away. There had to be some way he could play this off. He had complete control of the situation. Why should any of them care anyways? 

He decided he would just eat breakfast and then go back to bed. Maybe if he just slept, Hank would leave. Hank was too addicted to his own work to waste much time on him if he didn't want help. He figured Hank might tell the professor, but both of them held to their professional ethics, and he knew they wouldn't say anything to the others. He could deal with that.

He finished his apple and cleaned up. As he walked out of the kitchen, a huge, furry blue mass stepped out in front of him. Hank took him by complete surprise, and Remy stumbled back several steps.

"Hank?...I..."

"Good morning Remy." Hank grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around 180 degrees and started leading him back into the kitchen.

"I do so hope you planned on eating more than that one apple. Perhaps a nice stack of pancakes, or one of my world-famous omelets?"

It took Remy a few moments to react to that. What was Hank going to do? Force-feed him or something? Remy wretched his shoulders out of Hank's grasp, turning and trying to slip under Hank's left arm and out the door. Normally, this would be a simple maneuver for Remy. He forgot, of course, that Hank was super fast and agile. And for some reason, he himself seemed to be moving in slow motion compared to his own usual abilities. As Remy slid under Hank's arm, Hank twisted around and grabbed him around the waist with one arm, and the other wrapped around his upper arms, making it impossible for him to get out.

"Remy, just relax. I won't force you, but we need to talk."

Remy willed himself to relax. Why was he so jumpy? He was acting like a scared, little kid. _Stupid idiot!! What's wrong wit you!?!_

Hank released his hold when Remy relaxed. Remy took a deep breath and slowly walked over to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down, wrapping his arms around himself and staring down at the floor. He tensed again, knowing Hank was probably going to lay into him about how he could be so stupid for doing this to himself. 

Hank sighed as Remy grew tense again. He knew the Cajun would use his stubbornness to try and keep him away. Hank was not looking forward to this upcoming battle of wills.

He had woken earlier to an empty room and a loud sound from downstairs. He rose stiffly, knowing he would soon regret sleeping in that chair. He made his way down the stairs, and could hear a chopping noise coming from the kitchen. He stood quietly outside the door, curious as to what Remy was doing. He didn't know much about eating disorders, but he did know that the habits victims formed with eating behaviors were quite strange. He watched as Remy cut the apple into tiny, bite size pieces, then sat at the table, eating each piece slowly and methodically. It was a sad thing to watch. Remy had looked like a rabbit, nibbling small bits of food. 

Hank shook his head, looking down at Remy, who was apparently waiting for him to say something.

Hank took a deep breath, and decided to jump right into it. He took a small bottle of pills out of his lab coat, and placed them on the table. Remy glanced at the bottle, and then looked at Hank.

"What's dat?"

Hank sighed and sat down. This should be interesting. "It's Zoloft, an anti-depressant." He watched Remy, waiting for a reaction. When he didn't get one, he decided to continue. "I want you to start taking this every morning. It will offset the chemical imbalance in your brain that is making you so depressed and causing you to..."

"Stop."

Hank looked confused. "What?"

Remy stood up, anger suddenly apparent on his face. "Hank, I ain't some charity case! I never asked for your help! Dere ain't not'ing you can do ta change me. I jus' want all of ya ta leave me alone!" Tears welled up in his eyes, and he continued in a quieter voice. "Trust me Hank, I'm hopeless. An' I've accepted dat now." A tear began its path down his cheek. "So all of you need ta accept dat as well." With that, Remy ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room, locking the door. 

Remy slid down to the floor, and the tears began to flow harder. Even Hank thought he was some kind of psycho freak now, not even able to control his feelings and emotions. Maybe he was depressed, but that's because he was beginning to see what a loser he actually was. He hated the sight of himself. He really did wish he were dead. But carrying through with that was too frightening. He was actually afraid to die. It was too definite. There was no turning back. But this way, he could live, albeit barely, and suffer as punishment for the stupid, stupid things he had done throughout his life. Those years and years of living on the streets, trying to survive. The bad decisions he made as a teenager. Killing Belle's brother. Meeting Sinister. Letting Sinister use him. Letting Sinister manipulate him. The Massacre. The list went on and on. It would be so much better for everyone if he didn't exist. He was the world's biggest fool.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became at himself. He was sobbing so hard he was about to hyperventilate. He stood up and made his way over to the bed. He was so tired. He just couldn't go on anymore. All he wanted to do was sleep. Forever.

* * *

Hank sat in the kitchen, slightly surprised by Remy's outburst, but not really shocked. He knew this wouldn't be easy. He listened to the choking sobs coming from upstairs. The desperation in those cries was heart wrenching. He looked around the kitchen, sighed, and stood up. He had to do something. Like his father had taught him, there's always something that needs to be done. Right now, he knew what needed to be done. He needed to save the life of his teammate.

But how? Remy was an adult. If he didn't want help, there wasn't much that could be done. Of course, Hank knew Remy wasn't in his right mind. That was just another symptom of the disorder. Remy was delusional from the starvation, and his view was most likely distorted. And to top it off, the Cajun could be as stubborn as hell.

But then again, so could he.

* * *

Hank quietly slipped up the stairs and stood outside Remy's bedroom. He figured it would be locked, and took out the knife and safety pin he had brought, quickly picking the lock. Yes, he knew how to lock pick. It was fairly simple, and he had the door open after two tries. He knew Remy was asleep inside. He had stopped crying about 30 minutes ago and his breathing had evened out. Hank walked in and stood at the side of the bed. Remy's eyes were red and puffy, and his face had tear streaks down both cheeks. He looked so utterly helpless and innocent, the complete opposite of how everyone seemed to always view him. 

Hank reached out and brushed an auburn lock of hair away from Remy's face. He knelt down, studying the face in front of him. There was such contrast in that face. So many masks Remy hid behind. In the last 18 hours, Hank had seen more of the true Remy than he had in the past two years he had known the wily Cajun. Remy was human, just like the rest of them. At what point had they decided to make him more? Or less, for that matter. Rogue and Warren, they blamed the entire mutant massacre on him. Many of the X-men had despised Remy in the past, shunning him because he could attract anything with two legs, and pretty much flirted with the same. Even Hank had to admit jealousy in the past, although as he had come to know Remy a little better, it didn't bother him as much. Remy had a lot more to him, and was quite interesting to talk to.

It was actually Remy who had taught him how to pick a lock. It had happened about a year ago when he lost the key to a file cabinet that had some important documents he needed right away. Storm was away, so he had sought out Remy's help. Remy had it opened in a matter of seconds, and then actually offered to teach him a few tricks! He had gladly accepted, and quickly picked up the useful skill. It had been an interesting afternoon. Remy had shown him the ins and outs of several different locks, and at some point they had found themselves in the kitchen, drinking a beer and discussing the finer points of Renaissance art. He was pleasantly surprised at how much Remy knew about such subjects. It was that day that Hank figured out just how much more Remy was than meets-the-eye. He had truly enjoyed that day, and hoped that Remy and he could become better friends. But recent developments had prevented that. Onslaught, his evil doppelganger from another universe that kidnapped him, and, of course, the trial in Antarctica. Everything had been put on a backburner, and at some point since all that, Remy decided to put himself on a path of self-destruction. 

Remy was a loner like Wolverine, but on a whole different level. Wolverine treasured his independence, always stepping out of the picture if things became too hot and heavy, but he was just as content to be around everyone as well. Remy seemed to draw into himself when he was around the others. He was always hiding in that long trench coat, keeping everyone from getting too close. As soon as he could, he would split from the group, either heading to the roof or his room, or out to the bars. But he never seemed truly happy. And it seemed like such a lonely way to live. 

Hank sighed and stood back up. He could spend all day thinking about these things. He needed to get Remy back to the mansion ASAP.

Hank reached down and rubbed a bony shoulder. "Remy, wake up."

The only reaction he got was a moan. Hank tried again, shaking him a little this time. "Come on Remy. I need you to wake up."

Hank's brows furrowed slightly when Remy whispered a barely coherent response. "Please...can't."

Hank took Remy's wrist in between his large fingers, reading the pulse. By the end of one minute, Hank was pale. He was getting 40 beats per minute. He gave up trying to wake Remy up, and instead bent down and scooped the emaciated body into his arms. He wasn't going to play games anymore. He needed to get Remy to the MedLab now. He grabbed a blanket from the bed, getting Remy wrapped up tightly. Within minutes, they were outside on their way back.

Hank was getting nervous. Despite the eye-opening cold, Remy was still asleep, shivering against Hank's body. "Hang on Remy. We're almost back. Don't shut down on me now."

* * *

Remy was having the strangest dream. He was dying. Finally near the end. He was so tired, and he was finally going to get some rest. He didn't have to worry about the hollowness in his soul any longer. Death was with him. Large strong arms held him, in a quiet promise to help him. To actually give a damn. He would never have to be alone again. If he would only accept Death. Give up and let Death take care of him. But suddenly, fear poured over him. Did Death really want to help him, or use him like everyone else always had? He began to struggle, and Death tightened its grasp. The harder he tried to get away, the tighter Death held on. He didn't want this! Not yet! He wanted a second chance! He began screaming, praying that someone could hear him, help him. He couldn't do this alone!

"Remy! Wake up!"

Remy shot straight up, immediately regretting it as the black spots invaded his vision and made him pass out again.

Hank looked over at the monitors, checking to make sure the hyperventilating hadn't worsened Remy's condition. At least some of the medicine was beginning to work. Remy's heart rate was up to 55. Despite being malnutritioned, Remy was also dehydrated. Hank had put him on nutrients and fluids, deciding against a feeding tube at the moment. Remy would hate him if he did that without his permission. 

Hank sighed, checking to make sure everything was reading normal, then walked over and sat down at his computer. He needed more information on how to deal with this. Mental illness was not his forte, and he was worried if he was handling all this correctly. He was shocked to find the hundreds of websites devoted to this illness. He began going down the list. 

He found loads of information, and tried to see how all those symptoms could fit Remy. Apparently, eating disorders seemed to stem from feeling a loss of control in one's life. It seemed that it was an easily hidden addiction, because dieting was so accepted in today's society. And often, the ones suffering had been victims of abuse in some form as a child. 

Hank understood that Remy was feeling out of control. In the past months, most of Remy's control had been taken from him. He was told he couldn't come back to his family. How many times had that happened in the past? And how much choice had he actually had when it came to working for Sinister? Hank actually doubted he had had any. These were definitely questions he was going to have to bring up with Remy.

The next site looked interesting. 

_**Why Are We This Way?**_

Hank clicked and waited for the page to load. He began scrolling down, slightly miffed that all he was seeing was a long, black screen with no words. Finally, about halfway down, he found in huge letters:

**Stop!!!**

It was a link, so he clicked on it. The next page loaded, and he began reading it.

> **Why are you trying to solve my problems by placing me in a group? Just stop. You are doing more harm by looking for statistics to place me under. Why am I acting this way? What can be done? How?**
> 
> Please stop trying to find these answers in a book or on a web site. The only way to get through this is to show me you care. Do I really know you do? Trust me, I won't if you just keep me hooked up to I.V.'s and tell me to get better. The only thing I feel is the loss of control, and anger at you for taking it away.
> 
> Just be there for me. Talk things through. Provide support and let me know you want me better because you care. But give me the choice. Let me make the decision to live or to die.

Hank sat staring at the screen, reading it over and over. It was powerful. He found another link at the bottom of the page, and it took him to a bio of the girl who wrote it. The website was actually created by a girl who had suffered from the disorder. She built it as a tribute to her friend, who wrote the passage he had just read. To his dismay, the girl who wrote the passage passed away a few days after completing it.

He shut down the window and got up to take a break. He needed to think about what he had just learned. 

Hank looked over at Remy. He was still asleep, and didn't seem to be suffering from any nightmares at the moment. Hank figured he could run upstairs for a few moments and grab a couple of Twinkies and some coffee.

* * *

As Hank stepped into the foyer, he heard several voices coming from the kitchen area. He walked in to find Jean, Scott, and Bobby all sitting around the table. Scott and Bobby appeared to be arguing about something, and Jean just looked slightly amused.

"Hank!" Bobby was the first to notice his friend step into the room. "Just the person to back me up."

"Oh please Bobby," Scott threw his arms in the air, but had the faintest hint of a grin on his face. "This is a pointless argument to begin with. And Hank is way too biased anyways."

"Hey, this is a way important argument! And Hank's a doctor, so he's a very educated and trustworthy source."

Hank looked between them with amusement. "I can already assume I will regret asking this, but what on earth are you two arguing about?"

Jean spoke, shaking her head and trying not to laugh. "Are Twinkies part of the four major food groups?"

Hanks mouth hung open for a moment, too shocked to answer.

"See Bobby, even Hank knows this is too stupid to answer."

Before Bobby could find a comeback, Hank broke out of his shock and jumped in instead.

"Scott!! How could you not know how important Twinkies are in a healthy daily meal plan? Stars and garters man, I doubt it is possible for the human body to function without the sustenance of such an important nutritional fuel!"

Scott stood up, trying to appear stoic despite the grin on his face. "Fine, fine. I can tell I'm outnumbered now anyways." By this point, Jean had her head on the table shaking with laughter, and Bobby was high-fiving Hank. 

"But I still think you have an unfair advantage Bobby, so this doesn't mean I concede yet."

Bobby just shrugged and grinned. "Hey, you take what you can get."

Everyone started laughing and talking, and Hank sat down to catch up on how everyone's holidays had been. He was listening to Jean talk about her niece and nephew when Bobby got up to get a drink from the fridge.

"Where did all this food come from?" Hank, Scott and Jean looked up to see Bobby standing with the fridge wide open. "Sheesh, this is enough food to feed an army!"

Hank sighed. He was not sure how much he should say about Remy just yet. He had decided earlier to not even mention Remy until he could discuss his findings with the professor. But maybe they wouldn't ask anything further if he just casually mentioned Remy was in the house. "I believe that Remy made Thanksgiving dinner for the professor. And enough leftovers for everyone else." There, that was a simple explanation. He wasn't giving away anything important.

"Remy stayed here?!" Scott exclaimed. "I figured he was one of the first ones to split when he heard we were taking some vacation time."

Jean looked at Hank, somewhat concerned. "Hank, is everything okay? I didn't want to say anything earlier, but you do look kind of beat for someone who just had a vacation."

Hank cringed. Did he really look that bad? Of course, he had come straight from the boathouse this morning, hooked Remy up to tubes and I.V.s, and spent the rest of the day browsing sites on the Internet. He hadn't even looked in a mirror. Knowing his fur, it probably wasn't a pretty picture. If you thought 'bed head' was bad, you should see 'bed body'.

"Yes, my dear, it has just been a long day. That's all. I actually just came up to get a bite to eat. I really should get back to work downstairs."

"Aw Hank, c'mon. We never get vacation time. Why don't we head out to city like we used to. Maybe that old coffee shop is still around," Bobby urged. He was going to milk this vacation for everything it was worth.

"Sorry, my frigid friend, but I have work to accomplish. I have, um, recent, intriguing developments in my research that require immediate response." There, he wasn't lying. That was true.

"Sure Hank. Which translates to: 'I'm going to be up all night calculating formulas when I could be out having fun for a change.'" Bobby nonchalantly walked past Hank to leave the room, freezing the cup of coffee in Hank's hands. Used to that trick, Hank set the cup in the sink and picked up another cupful he had made in anticipation of the joke. Some things never changed.

"So Hank, how is Remy doing?" Jean asked the last question Hank wanted to hear.

Hank stood there for a moment, thinking how he should phrase his answer so that Scott and Jean wouldn't suspect anything. 

"He is...dealing, I suppose." 

"What does that mean Hank? Is there something wrong with him? ," Scott asked, actually showing some genuine concern.

Hank sighed and looked down at his cup. "I know you are concerned guys. But, I cannot talk about this with you. I'm sorry. If you are worried, you need to speak to Remy yourself. In fact..." he looked up and met their eyes, "I strongly urge it." Jean and Scott blinked and looked at each other, worry now apparent on both their faces.

"Now, if you will excuse me." Hank turned and headed back down to the lab. 

Hank opened the door to the room he had left Remy in, hoping that Remy was close to waking up so that he could try and get some food into him.

Apparently, Remy had been a lot closer to waking up that he had previously thought, as he now stared into an empty room. 

* * *

_So cold! So cold! C'mon, ya idiot, you can make it up a flight of stairs. Jus' keep goin'. Almost dere!_

Remy was relieved as he stepped inside his old room. Maybe he would be safe here for a while. It was the only place he could go right now. 

Remy walked over to the window, and tremors rocked his body as he gazed out. There was so much snow out there. It was covering everything. It almost looked...infinite. Remy gasped and twisted away. He couldn't think about that right now. There was no way he would go out there to get back to the boathouse. And the lab, well that was totally out of the question. He looked down at his arms. He had ripped the I.V.s out, and there was a trail of blood flowing down his right hand. Well, so he didn't know how to remove I.V.s gently. He just shrugged his shoulders, not really caring. As long as he wasn't in a lab, he might be safe. He had almost had a heart attack when he woke up in there a few minutes ago. It was too much like...

Remy shook his head, trying to clear out those thoughts. He wouldn't think about that right now. He needed to concentrate on getting warm. He started digging through his closet, pulling out a couple pairs of sweatpants and sweatshirts. He turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it, and quickly stripped and got in. Oh, it was like Heaven! This felt better than anything he had experienced in a long time. Hot water. Heat. _Warmth._ He craved it more than anything right now.

He began washing himself, trying to get every part of himself under the steamy water at the same time. He glanced over at the shower mirror on the door, hating what stared back at him. Why did it look like he was gaining weight?! How could that be possible? Did Hank feed him something without him knowing it? How could Hank do that?! Destroy all his hard work! Well, he would have to work it off now. He had planned on sleeping, but he would never be able to rest knowing that food was sitting in him, slowly attaching itself to his body, making him fat and ugly. 

With that thought on his mind, he turned off the shower, quickly getting into his clothes and grabbing a rag to help stop the bleeding coming from his arm. It was going to be a long next couple of hours while he worked off those damn calories. 

* * *

Hank had gone straight over to the mansion security system after he found Remy missing from the room. He was not impressed. Remy had yanked out the I.V.s, and there was blood on the bed. He sighed inwardly. Why wouldn't Remy just let him help? Why did it always have to be a fight? 

A quick sweep of the mansion told him that Remy was upstairs in his old room, actually in the shower. Hank shut down the screen and decided to grab some bandages, figuring that if he couldn't get Remy to come back down here, he might have to apply mobile first-aid. As Hank went over to the drawer to grab some bandages, the door to the lab opened.

"Hi Hank." Bobby ambled into the room, looking a bit puzzled.

"Hello Bobby." Hank nodded. Noticing the look on his friend's face, he added, "Is everything okay?"

Bobby hopped up onto the counter next to Hank. "I'm not sure." Hank waited as Bobby paused, knowing something was bothering his best friend.

"I was walking upstairs a few minutes ago, and saw Remy head into his room." Bobby looked up at Hank, and Hank could see sincere concern in his eyes. "Hank, he looked like...like...I don't know, just strange. Tired. Just not like Remy." Bobby looked Hank in the eyes. "He was all hunched over and out of breath. I only saw him as he was going into his room, but he looked so pale and weak. Is he sick or something?"

Hank hated this. He would uphold his professional ethics no matter what, but he felt like he was practically lying to his friends' faces. Why did this have to be so hard?

"Bobby, like I told Jean and Scott, I cannot answer that. You will have to talk to him yourself. I wish I could say more, but I cannot convey things that were told to me in confidentiality. You know I won't do that."

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, and you're right. I guess we need to talk to him. Everyone has been giving him the cold shoulder since he got back, and it's really starting to get old."

Hank nodded, smiling. "I concur completely, my friend." 

Satisfied, Bobby hopped off the counter and headed to the door. "I'll be back here in 5 hours to drag you out, so be ready for a Twinkie run!" 

Hank laughed loudly, "I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

* * *

As Remy exited the bathroom, he again came face-to-face with a blue, furry obstacle, and again, fell back a few steps, surprised.

"Ya know, mon ami, dis startin' ta get old." He quickly put his arm behind his back, hoping that Hank wouldn't see the blood and drag him back down to the medlab. 

Hank just stood there, arms crossed, not moving. "You know, my friend, ripping I.V.s out of your arm to sneak out of the Med Lab is not a good way to try to keep me away." 

Remy at least had the decency to look down and blush at that statement. How could he explain it to Hank anyways? He could never let anyone know what had happened. He would take it to his grave. And he deserved it. 

Hank sighed, seeing that Remy wasn't going to respond. He walked over to the small dresser by the bed and laid out some bandages and tape. "Sit down on your bed Remy."

Remy froze. Fear suddenly gripped him. Something about this situation felt...familiar...

_"Sit down on the bed Remy." The young eight-year-old did as he was told, despite knowing exactly what was about to happen. Why had he tried to escape? He shivered as he watched the metallic white hands cut a strip of gauze and wrap it around his wrist. But the hands never stopped there. He would close his eyes, not being able to bare the sight of the hands on his body. He would try to detach himself, as Dr. Essex 'examined' him. He always hated the end the most. It always hurt so bad. He cried as he felt his jeans being pulled off. Essex telling him to hush. But it hurt too much. And now his wrist hurt too. _

Hank watched in shock as something in Remy snapped, and Remy started screaming, saying that his wrist was fine, to leave him alone. Remy backed into the corner and collapsed, just screaming. 

Hank stood still for a few moments, trying to adjust his shields to the fear Remy was throwing at him. Remy was in a panic, and Hank needed to get him calmed down quickly before he passed out again.

* * *

In the kitchen, Scott and Jean were talking as Bobby walked in. "Hey guys, can we talk?"

"Sure Bobby. What's wrong?" Scott was surprised by the determined look on Bobby's face. It didn't happen too often.

"Actually, I want to talk about Remy."

Scott and Jean looked at each other before Jean answered. "Actually, Scott and I were just discussing him and the current living arrangements. We were thinking it might be time to get him back in the house. None of us even see him anymore."

Bobby nodded, "Yeah, I was just talking to Hank, and I think something might be wrong with Remy."

Scott's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Bobby continued, "when I was heading upstairs a minute ago, I saw Remy walking down the hall to his room. He looked different somehow. Like, I don't know, kind of hunched over and stumbling. I can't explain it, he just didn't look well." 

Jean began to look concerned. "Hank wouldn't give us a straight answer when we spoke to him. He acted like it was confidential information."

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, well he actually said it was confidential to me. So something is wrong."

Jean stood up. "Why don't I go up and talk to Remy. Maybe I can..."

Jean dropped to her knees in mid-sentence, grabbing her head and gasping. Scott and Bobby felt an intense rush of pain and fear, but realized it was a projection of sorts, and instantly raised their shields against it. By then, Jean had done the same, and was getting to her feet.

"What the heck was that?" Bobby stood there, rubbing his temples.

"I---I'm not sure. It felt like a huge dam of emotions, mostly pain and fear, was suddenly released on the Astral Plane." Jean projected herself to the Plane for a moment to survey if any damage was done. It appeared the emotions were still present, though somewhat more under control. And it appeared to be coming from upstairs...in Remy's room.

"It's coming from Remy!" she replied as she came back to her surroundings.

"But how could he do something like that?" Scott asked. "He's not a telepath."

Jean shook her head. "I don't know. But this isn't telepathic. It feels more like..." Her eyes widened with realization. "Remy is an empath!"

Scott looked shocked. How could they not know something like this? "Jean, are you sure?"

Jean nodded. "Yes. His shields broke somehow, and he's pouring emotions into the Astral Plane. I have to go help him before too much damage is done."

Jean ran out of the kitchen, with Scott and Bobby right behind her.

* * *

After Hank had his groundings, he slowly made his way over to Remy. Remy looked like a cornered mouse, about to be captured, and Hank didn't want to aggravate him further.

Hank stopped about a foot away, and just started talking, hoping to draw Remy out of this panic attack.

"Remy? Can you hear me? C'mon Remy, I need you to come back to me. I know you're scared. But I won't hurt you. You know I won't hurt you Remy." Hank grimaced as another pang of fear hit him, and he had to draw back. But he kept on talking, hoping to pull Remy out of his nightmare. 

"Come on Remy. I know you are scared. But we need to talk about it. You need to come back to me." Hank attempted to draw nearer, as Remy seemed to be calming down a bit. "Remy, please, give me your hand. I know you are scared, but please trust me. I care about you Remy, and I care what happens to you." 

This seemed to finally get through to him, and Remy's hand came up. Hank slowly reached up and took it, emitting as many calming, kind thoughts as he could. The effect on Remy was remarkable. He suddenly came back to the present, staring blankly at Hank for a moment. Then he broke down into deep, painful sobs.

Hank wasted no time in gathering Remy in his arms. He meant what he said a second ago, and he was going to be here for Remy. He started rocking back and forth, knowing how much it soothed Remy. "Shhhh. It's going to be okay kiddo. Just let it go. You're safe."

Hank was fascinated and devastated by what he had learned in just the past 24 hours alone. He was in too deep to look back now. And what was even stranger was that he found he was oddly enjoying this new relationship. It was nice to feel needed for strength and support, instead of simply because he was a doctor and fixed everyone's injuries. 

At that moment, Jean burst into the room, with Scott and Bobby on her heels. Hank figured Jean, being a telepath, had been hit hard with that last empathic outburst.

Jean knelt down next to Hank. "Remy..." She placed a hand gently on his back. "Remy, I know these emotions are painful, but please, can I help you pull them back under control?"

Remy lay against Hank, not moving for a moment. Then he mumbled, his face still buried in Hank's fur. 

"I'm sorry Remy, I couldn't understand what you just said."

Remy turned his face slightly so that his mouth wasn't buried in fur. "Jus' you an' Hank."

Jean nodded and wasted no time in getting Scott and Bobby to leave. She came back over and settled down next to Hank on the floor, taking Gambit's hand in hers.

"Okay Remy, your shields have become weak for some reason. We need to get them strong again. Come onto the Astral Plane and we'll begin."

Remy nodded. But what was he thinking? He couldn't let Jean see inside his head! She would see all the pain, his fears. What could he...

*It's okay Remy.* 

*Jeanie?*

She floated towards him and he didn't know what to do now. He had never been fond of the Astral Plane. It was a strange place. He hoped this wouldn't take long.

Jean, sensing his apprehension, floated over to him and took his hand. She immediately felt some of the tension dissipate. *Follow me.*

They began floating on the outskirts of his mind, searching for the weak spot. At a certain point, the air around them began swirling. As they dove further into it, it became rougher and rougher. Jean knew they were near the damage. Remy's emotions were out of control, and the worst seemed to be centered in this particular area. 

Suddenly, large bold words began flying passed them, coming from below.

**STUPID IDIOT! FOOL! LOSER! JERK! I HATE YOU!**

Down below them, Jean noticed a barren, snow-covered landscape. The words were coming from a certain plot in the snow, and she thought she could make out a person in the snowstorm.

*Let's go to the ground Remy.*

As she changed her course, Remy tugged her back.

*Non chere, dat...not a good idea.*

Jean looked back at him. His astral image was a pulsating dark purple. She had seen that many times before. It was fear.

*Why are you afraid Remy? It's only an image, we can't be hurt by it.* 

Jean was getting worried. Besides the pulsing purple light, she noticed that his image was growing weaker and dimmer.

*It ain' jus' an image, Jeanie. I been dere. Dat's me in that snow.* He turned away, hugging himself. *I can't go back dere. Jus' not strong enough.* 

Jean looked back down. More images were melting into the scene, but with all the snow and wind, it was almost impossible to see what they were from this point. It was obvious that whatever those images down there were, they were the cause of a lot of these emotions being created. But Remy was going to have to be the one to deal with them. 

As she turned back around to him, his image suddenly blinked out. He had passed out, and his astral form was now buried deeper in his mind. Jean didn't have the time to go on a wild goose chase, so she turned to go fix the wall on her own. It wouldn't be as strong as it would if Remy was building it, but it would do for the time being.

As she neared the damaged wall, pain suddenly hit her from behind. She was dazed for a moment, then turned around to see what had hit her. Her mouth dropped open with the image now in front of her.

It was a small, cold, metal room. A strong wind was blowing outside, and she figured they must be in Antarctica. This looked like one of Magneto's citadels. Remy was kneeling on the ground, with only some pants and boots on. Beside him was a pile of wires, with the plastic casing chewed off. And Remy had his hand down his throat, gagging himself until he vomited it back up. Jean stepped back in shock. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. 

Suddenly the scene changed, and they were in the boathouse bathroom. Remy's position hadn't changed, but now he had on jeans, boots, and a sweater. And instead of a pile of chewed up wire next to him, he had a half-eaten cake, an empty box of cereal, and half a gallon of ice cream. Which was currently being thrown-up into the toilet. 

Jean couldn't take it anymore. She jumped outside the image and flew outside the wall. She quickly erected a shield that would hold the emotions in for a while, until Remy could rebuild the wall. Then she jumped out of his mind, and quickly back to her own body.

* * *

Hank sighed with relief as he felt Remy's emotions dissipate. About a minute later, Jean came back to herself and opened her eyes. She looked at Remy and then up at Hank.

"He passed out."

Hank nodded. Remy's body had relaxed and he figured that was what happened.

"Are you okay Jean?"

Jean closed her eyes and rubbed her temples and realized she was shaking. She looked down at Remy with tears forming in her eyes. "Hank, do you know what he's doing? He...he's..."

Hank sighed and finished. "He's trying to punish himself Jean."

Jean reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of Remy's face, stroking his forehead a few times. "What have we done to him Hank?" She shook her head slightly. "What have we done?" 

  
_**To be continued...**_

I promise, I will work on it when I get the chance, but I've got a lot going on right now, so I don't know when the next chapter will be out. Hopefully not too long, if I have anything to say about it. 


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